


point it home

by schuylerhamilton



Category: Hollywood (TV 2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Conversations, F/M, Fluff, Hollywood, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schuylerhamilton/pseuds/schuylerhamilton
Summary: Five conversations between Jack Castello and Claire Wood when they were just friends, and one conversation when they were something more.
Relationships: Jack Castello/Claire Wood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	point it home

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I’m still trash for them.
> 
> Title comes from the song “Falling Slowly” from the musical “Once.”
> 
> All of these conversations are pretty much just “missing scenes” to me. Also, the last part (the “+1”, if you will) is complete, tooth-rotting fluff. You’ve been warned!

**i. — their first rehearsal**

“Ok.” She walked into the rehearsal room. The early afternoon sunlight peeking in from the windows basked the room in a nice yellow glow, and she pressed her lips into a thin smile. “You ready?” She asked him, setting her script down on top of the piano.

“I guess,” He shrugged, smiling that _ridiculously_ cute smile of his.

“You _guess_?” She raised her eyebrows.

Jack straightened up. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’m ready.” He tapped his foot against the tile floor, and flipped through the script. “Do you wanna… start at the end? When he’s persuading her not to jump?”

Claire had never read a script starting at the end before. Usually, she just read them like a book, at first, and then began acting them out. Jack hadn’t even been acting for that long, and her mother said his screen test as Mr. Alexander for _Tap Roots_ was, for the lack of a better word, absolutely fucking terrible.

_He’d yelled the poor girl’s ear off_ , Avis had told her. _I almost asked Dick to turn it off._

But, somehow, for whatever reason, she thought his suggestion was a good idea. The ending scene wasn’t the scene that they’d be screen testing for, but it wouldn’t hurt to act it out. Maybe it would improve their chemistry.

“Ok.” She said. “Let’s do it.”

The surprised look on his face almost made her laugh. It was like he hadn’t expected her to agree to his proposal.

“Ok, y-yeah.” Jack stuttered. “Great.”

Was he nervous? She didn’t think he’d ever practiced a scene with anyone that wasn’t Ellen, and she wasn’t even an actress. And now, here he was, rehearsing a scene with her, the daughter of the head of the studio. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started sweating and stuttering a few minutes into the scene. Weirdly enough, the thought of that was almost… endearing. Jack was sometimes so awkward and puppy-like that he could have been considered _adorable_.

“Are you… nervous?” She asked tentatively, and he shook his head.

“No. I mean, well—“ He stuttered, almost like he was reconsidering his answer. “Um, no.”

“It’s okay if you are.” Claire reassured him. “I mean, I know you really want this role.”

He nodded. She waited for him to say something, like maybe _Yes, I do want this role_ or _I really want to do a good job at my screen test_ or even _Thank you, Claire. We’d be amazing together if we were both cast in this picture._

But he didn’t say anything, just opened the script and found the last scene. “Do you want to start with, ‘Sam, I’m so scared,’?” He pointed to the line and she nodded.

Claire grabbed her script off of the top of the piano and found the page with the line that he was referring to. She closed her eyes and willed herself to adopt the tragic character of Peg Entwistle, the depressed actress. She really believed that she was the right choice for the role.

She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, with all the fear she could possibly muster, “Sam, I’m so scared.”

The words that came out of her mouth sounded a bit lame, but she reminded herself that this was just the first day, and she would improve the more she looked over the script. Thankfully, Jack jumped in immediately, adapting a look of concern that was _so_ believable that she almost wanted to stop the scene and ask him what was wrong.

“I know you are!” He said, adopting the pleading, distressed character of Sam Harrington, the boyfriend. “I know you are, but you don’t have to be.” Jack swallowed, his eyes as big as saucers. His stare was so intense, so sad, that it almost seemed like he was seeing right through her, in a way. Like he knew that she was deeply, deeply regretting her climb up to the tip-top of the Hollywood sign. This was just their first rehearsal, and he was already putting so much effort into his performance. It was… well, it was _magnificent_. He was made for the role, she knew.

Claire closed her eyes and shook her head slightly as Jack continued to act. “You can come down, please!” He begged, and her eyes shot open.

“What are they going to say about me, Sam?” She asked, her voice shaky and her tone slightly accusatory. She sniffed, and stared at him. He looked a bit taken aback by the intensity of her stare, before moving his head downwards to look at the script. “I’ll just be that girl who…never made it.” She spat, before moving towards him.

They were standing about six feet apart, and even though Claire knew that she was supposed to be standing on the top of the Hollywood sign, she couldn’t resist moving towards him. She was drawn to him like a moth was drawn to a flame, or the way a magnet of one charge was attracted to a magnet of the opposite charge.

_Opposites attract. Ha, ha._ She thought to herself, moving just a little bit closer. They were about three feet apart now, and while Jack seemed a bit puzzled as to why she decided to move, he didn’t question it, thankfully.

“Listen to what I’m saying!” He recited his line, pleading with her. “Sweetheart…” He said quietly, almost like he was testing out how the word sounded. Claire swallowed. “Sweetheart, I love you.” He said, and she was almost taken aback by how _real_ it sounded.

He was a very convincing actor. Those lessons from Ellen really helped.

“Oh, god,” He continues, his voice catching slightly. He cleared his throat, and a small, sad smile spreading across his face. “I love you more than anything in the world.” He let the words hang in the air for _just_ a beat too long, and she stared at him.

It sounded good so far, it really did, but in Claire’s mind, it wasn’t good _enough_. As Dick often said, things that were _good_ could always be _better._ Improvement was always possible.

“Say it again.” She said quietly, choosing not to look at him and instead stared down at her script.

“What?” He asked, and _boom_ , just like that, the pleading Sam was replaced by the slightly awkward Jack Castello.

“Say it again.” She repeated, looking up at him. “Put, um, put more emotion into it. It’s good, but _good_ can always be _better_.”

“Ok.” Now it was his turn to look back down at his script. Jack looked back up at her, and his expression turned into one of sadness and tenderness. _He’s so puppy-like_ , she thought to herself. _So…vulnerable._

_So good at acting out his emotions_.

“Sweetheart, I love you.” He said, and it sounded like he really, truly meant it. He stepped closer to her, putting his script down on the top of the piano in the process. _Oh. This… this is better_. “Oh, god,” He placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping them gently. “I love you more than anything in the world.” He told her sincerely, his eyes looking directly into hers. They stayed like that for a few seconds, and she nodded approvingly.

This wasn’t even close to the way the scene _should_ have been acted out, she knew. They weren’t supposed to touch. She was supposed to be so high up, he’d have to crane his neck to be able to see her. But she still thought that their blocking was nice. It was better this time around than it was the first time he’d said the words.

“Better.” She told him, a small smile playing at her lips. “We… we have good chemistry.” She said, and he nodded in agreement.

_Much, much better._ She thought.

But… _better_ could always be _perfect_.

* * *

**ii. — at george cukor’s party**

“Jack Castello! I was wondering when I would find you here.” She walked up to him, adapting a tone that hopefully sounded completely normal and not at all suspicious. “Where’ve you been?” She asked innocently, like she actually had no idea where he’d been.

Like she didn’t overhear him telling that guy – Henry Willson, she remembered – that he didn’t love his wife anymore. The words kept racing through her mind. _His wife… he doesn’t love his wife._

In some ways, she could understand where he was coming from. She’d never been married, obviously, and when she inevitably slid a ring onto her finger, it would probably belong to handsome, rich man who frequented Ace Studios. It was her father’s wish, her marrying rich. It was the one thing he actually believed she could do. While her future husband might be rich, she didn’t know if she’d love him for who he truly was, or if she’d just be in it for the money. Was that what Jack’s wife was in it for? Was she just sticking around for her husband’s dream, secretly living an unhappy life as he tried to make it or break it in Tinseltown? Was the prospect of money the only thing preventing them from leaving each other? She thought of her parents. If they ever left each other, her mother would end up having significantly less money than her father, but she’d still be very well off. She didn’t think she could say the same for Jack’s wife.

And was Jack’s falling out of love with his wife simply an unfortunate reminder that not all couples who were bonded because of war managed to make things work out after their long-distance relationship was over, or was he truly unhappy being with her for reasons that Claire didn’t know about? She’d overheard his explanation on the tennis court — he was being shipped out, he was desperate for something to hold on to, for something to remind him that life was truly worth living if he managed to make it out of that charred hellscape alive – and it made her wonder: did he just marry her just for _that_ reason? Did he ever truly love her in the first place, or did he want something that could make him be more like every other young, starry-eyed man fighting in Anzio? Was Mrs. Castello simply a name for him to think about as he fought for his country alongside so many other men who were, no doubt, just like him?

She couldn’t think about this. She didn’t even know his wife, had no idea how they acted behind closed doors—

_This is not my problem._ She tried to remind herself. _We’re just friends, practically just business partners, nothing more—_

Claire shook herself out of her thoughts as Jack replied, “Uh, I was just talking to some fella about, um… my future.” He swallowed, and she studied him curiously.

“Well, that sounds nice. Was it?” She asked, and he shook his head lamely. _God, he is so bad at lying._ She thought, watching as he took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, causing the small amount of smoke to billow in front of his face. “Have any huge revelations about your growing career as an actor?” She inquired, trying to sound casual.

Jack shrugged. “Um, no, not really.” He glanced at her, and she narrowed her eyes. He sighed. “Just… finally said something that I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

_Oh._ She thought. _That’s…. hmmm. Interesting._

Claire nodded and studied the neatly cut grass at their feet. “Are you happy?” She asked, and he turned to her, a surprised look on his face.

“W-what?”

“Are you happy, now that you’ve said… whatever you were thinking about?” She stared at him, and he shook his head slowly.

“I-I don’t know.” He confessed. “I just – I don’t know if I’m a good person.”

Now Claire frowned. “Well,” she said after a while. “ _That’s_ certainly very interesting.”

She believed he was a good person; she really, truly did. Unlike so many others in Hollywood, he was, weirdly enough, truly pure of heart. He had the talent to get to where he wanted to go, and he wasn’t burnt out – yet. She could tell that he truly wanted the role of Sam, and god, she really hoped he would get it.

He deserved it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, clearing her throat. “See you tomorrow.”

She began walking away, trekking through the grass and back to the house, and leaving him standing alone in the backyard. The bugs chirped quietly in the trees, their humming almost drowned out by the laughs and loud chatter from the rest of the party.

Claire didn’t dare to turn around. She knew that if she did, she’d see him standing there, probably looking confused and slightly pathetic. She could picture the way he’d loosen his tie and unbutton the collar of his shirt, before taking a deep breath that almost sounded like a dejected sigh.

She could picture it all _so_ clearly, and it almost scared her. Since when had she gotten to know him _that_ well? Claire swallowed and shook her head slightly.

_He **is** a good person. Why does he have so many doubts about that? _

* * *

**iii. — before claire’s screen test**

“You ready?” He asked her, his blue eyes making contact with hers. The comment almost made her laugh; she’d said the same thing to him at the start of their first practice. Claire swallowed. She’d tried so hard not to be nervous, and yet—

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jack grabbed her shoulders gently. “It’ll be fine. You sounded great the last time we rehearsed this monologue.”

She nodded. They’d rehearsed it plenty of times. She knew the lines by heart.

“How did your screen test go?” She asked quietly, trying to ignore the chatter from the other actresses in the makeshift dressing room on the soundstage. Jack shrugged.

“It went well, I think.” He answered. “I mean, I didn’t mess up, so that’s probably a good thing, right?”

The look on his face told her that he might have been genuinely asking, and she laughed. The noise caused the other actresses to look up from their makeup stations and shoot her an annoyed look, and Jack tried to stifle a laugh.

“Yes, that’s good,” She told him. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled.

They stood there for a few seconds, both of them not really knowing what to say. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other quite awkwardly, and looked around the room. “You’ll be great,” He said quietly. “I mean, you’re the daughter of the guy who owns this studio. You’ve probably got a better chance of getting a role than I do.”

She raised her eyebrows. That really wasn’t true. Her parents didn’t believe that she could act, and only put her in Ellen’s acting classes to prove to her that she apparently didn’t have what it took to be a real actress. Despite being the daughter of the studiohead, Claire Wood had to work just as hard as everybody else, believe it or not. She’d never just gotten a role handed to her, especially since she changed her last name from _Amberg_ to _Wood_.

And Jack had really, _really_ improved during their rehearsals. He was perfect for the role, in her opinion.

But before she could protest, or tell him the truth, he turned back towards her, “Look, whatever happens in there, in front of the camera, I just want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes widened slightly. He genuinely meant it, she knew.

“What?” She said, rather stupidly.

“You’re my friend.” He responded quickly, then his eyes widened, as if he hadn’t meant to voice that thought out loud. He cleared his throat, and gestured at the space between them. “I mean, uh, we’re friends, right? Can we call this, um—” He searched for a word. “— _partnership_ a friendship?”

He looked weirdly embarrassed, and his cheeks were flushed as he waited for her to respond.

Claire furrowed her brows for a second before staring at him incredulously. In her mind, they were already friends. “Yes, of course.” She responded, smiling politely.

Jack smiled in relief and went back to looking around the room again.

“Were you under the impression that we… weren’t friends?” She asked, curious.

He turned back to her, running a hand though his hair, and shrugged. “Uh, well, I mean… not really?” He said, cringing slightly. “I mean, I just thought that we were, uh, just scene partners, you know?”

Claire nodded. “Yes, I… understand. But I think we’re friends.” She told him, and he nodded awkwardly. Jack swallowed, then sighed.

“Yeah, I guess I do, too.” Jack admitted quietly, watching as a few actresses left the room. “I should probably leave.” He said, and she nodded.

“Um, good luck, okay?” He told her, smiling. “You’ll do great.” He patted her on the shoulder softly, then left.

She smiled, took a deep breath, and walked over to a make-up station, where Camille was already seated.

She’d do well. She’d get the part, and maybe, just _maybe_ , her parents would finally be proud of her.

* * *

**iv. — the last day of shooting for _me_ _g_**

**“** _Meg_ , Scene 35, Take 1!” Raymond’s voice called out. The director stood next to the camera. “Welcome to the last day of shooting, everyone!” He smiled and pumped his fist excitedly, and the cast and crew all let out a cheer.

The scene in question was one of the last scenes in the movie. Sam would race to the bar, trying to find Meg, and he would run into Sarah, her friend. Sarah would inform him that Meg had a few drinks with her, and presumably left to meet up with Sam. The bartender would interrupt and tell the two that Meg asked for directions to the Hollywoodland sign, and Sam, distraught, would run off to save Meg before she almost died.

It wouldn’t be a difficult scene to shoot, and hopefully, it wouldn’t take all day. Claire was really, really looking forward to the party that was being held at her house after shooting was completed.

“Are you coming to my place tonight?” She asked him casually, while crew members hurried to clean up the bar and get all the props back in place.

Jack’s eyes widened, and he was clearly taken aback. If Claire didn’t know any better, she’d have thought he was going to cough, or throw up, or maybe even both.

“What?” He sputtered, and she stared at him. They’d been friends for months at this point, and yet he still acted so unbelievably awkward around her sometimes. It was kind of cute, she had to admit. Jack Castello was practically a goddamn golden retriever in human form.

“For the party?” She told him, hoping that it would ring a bell. “The wrap party.” She clarified. “It’s at my house.”

_House_ was quite a way to put it. Claire could’ve just referred to it as a _mansion_ , or _the Amberg residence_ , or, heck, even a fucking _castle_.

That little lightbulb of recognition seemed to go off above his head, and his eyebrows raised. “Oh.” He said, a bit stupidly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

She nodded, and reached for a pen and a napkin, which were obviously props, that were sitting on the bar. The crew would no doubt be a bit pissed that she’d moved them, but Claire didn’t really care.

“Here,” She said, suddenly feeling a bit like a silly schoolgirl writing down her phone number for a boy. Which… well, it wouldn’t be all that different from her present situation. “I’ll write down my address for you.”

“Oh, I-“ Jack interjected, before stopping himself. “That’s fine, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Claire smiled a bit, feeling awkward. A crowded set was definitely not the ideal place to have a conversation. “I’m glad you’re coming.” She told him, and she was being honest. He smiled at that, clearly feeling slightly awkward as well.

“Well, um, thanks for hosting it.” Jack replied. “Really. I’m looking forward to it.” He told her, and she could tell that he was being sincere. His big blue eyes looked into hers, and she cleared her throat.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, looking away. Rock had taken his place at the other side of the bar, and the duo in front of him had now gone silent.

“Isn’t there a party at your house tonight?” Rock asked, and Claire nodded.

Maybe she should’ve just sent out a letter to the whole cast and crew about the wrap party, because apparently nobody knew what was going on around here. She sighed.

The crew finished cleaning up, and Jack (rather reluctantly) moved to the door, where he’d come rushing in, panicked.

“Action!”

* * *

**v. — the phone call before their meeting at schwab’s**

The phone was ringing, and Claire was engrossed in a book, a new copy of _The Victim_ by Saul Bellow. She set it down, marking her place with a bookmark, and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Uh, Claire, it’s Jack.” He sounded weirdly nervous, and stressed, and she furrowed her brows.

“What’s going on? Why did you call me now?” She checked the clock on the wall. It was late afternoon, almost dinnertime, she realized. He had no reason to call unless it was urgent.

“Um, well,” He stuttered, and she could hear him sigh through the phone. “I just really needed to talk to about… something with someone, and I thought it would be okay if I called you.”

“Something?” She asked, curious. “What is it?”

“It’s-It’s…” He paused, and Claire waited. _Oh god, he’s really struggling with this._ She thought, as Jack attempted to voice his apparently very muddled thoughts. “Look, you know what I told you at George Cukor’s party that one time? About my future and whether or not I was truly happy?”

“…Yes.” She had a little inkling about where he was going with this. She’d overheard his conversation with Henry.

“Well, uh, I’m not. I’m not happy.” Jack confessed. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, recently, and I’m… I’m not happy.”

“Why?” She heard herself say. “Does it have anything to do with the movie?” She added quickly, even though she knew that wasn’t the problem. Jack had always seemed so happy when filming, and he had definitely put his entire heart and soul into the movie. This problem was… well, this was definitely something else.

“No! No, it’s not that,” He replied. “I just- I needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t one of the guys, and you were the first person I though of, so… yeah.” He finished.

_I was the first person he thought of?_ She thought, frozen next to the phone.

“Claire?” She heard him ask, and she cleared her throat.

“Do you want to go to Schwab’s? To talk?” Claire suggested, hoping that she still managed to sound casual.

“Yeah, sure,” He replied. “Oh, god, I might as well just spit it out here, first, instead of keeping you waiting…” Jack trailed off, sighing, and she waited, curious about what he had to say.

“Look, my wife and I are getting a divorce.” He said finally, and Claire could’ve sworn that her whole world had stopped.

_Divorce_. She’d heard her mother speak about it before, mostly during her ramblings about what would happen to the studio if she and her father ever got divorced. It was something that Claire associated with older parents who didn’t quite see eye to eye, or with a distraught wife who had just found out that her husband of many years had cheated on her.

Wait. _Did he_ … She didn’t even dare to finish her sentence, but a part of her really, _really_ wanted to know the answer to the question, even if it was none of her business. Honestly, this conversation was none of her business anyway, but he was the one who had called her in the first place, so…

“Jack, did you—“ She started, but he interrupted her. It was almost like he had known what she was going to ask, and she felt slightly guilty.

“She cheated on me,” He said quietly, and he was surprisingly calm. Maybe he’d told other people about the situation, or maybe he’d already had time to come to terms with it. “The twins aren’t mine.”

“You—“ The words died in her throat as she realized that she didn’t know as much about Jack Castello as she had led herself to believe. She didn’t even know that his wife was pregnant, or what she did when he was at Ace Studios. And she, obviously, did not know the real father of Mrs. Castello’s children. “I-I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reassured her. “Claire, I-“ Jack stopped himself.

It was in that moment that she really, truly felt _sorry_ for him. He’d done his best, had done everything in his power to reassure his wife that he’d be a good husband and father and yet… it wasn’t enough for her. Claire felt sorry for him, she really did.

Sometimes, relationships didn’t work out. Her parents were proof of this, but she knew that they were trying their hardest to reconcile with each other. Jack and his wife’s marriage had ended quite badly, as she now knew, but the veteran-turned-actor had so, _so_ much to look forward to. He should’ve known that. _She_ knew that. Anyone with a brain should have been able to tell that he had a bright future ahead of him.

Hopefully, that future would include her.

For months, ever since their first rehearsal, there had been a small thought reverberating in the back of her mind, one that had refused to go away. It had grown significantly every time Jack Castello had unknowingly woven his way into her life, every time they talked or acted out a scene together. He had occupied her thoughts more than any other man ever had, and not getting to have him was, well, torture.

She liked him. A lot.

_Loved_ him, even.

So, as they said their temporary _goodbye_ s and _see you later_ s, and Claire set down the phone, put her copy of _The Victim_ away, and headed towards Schwab’s, she made a decision.

She’d tell Jack Castello how she felt. She’d comfort him, and be a good friend, first and foremost, but after that…

Well, she’d be honest with herself. And him.

_Meg_ ’s premiere was coming up soon, and Claire Wood would very much like to attend with Jack Castello. As more than friends.

It would be nice, wouldn’t it?

She hoped it would.

* * *

**\+ vi. — the night before the 20th academy awards**

Claire had been to the Oscars before.

Many times, in fact. That was just one of the many bonuses of having a father who was a studiohead.

She’d spent her childhood staring at the small golden bodies that resided on a shelf in her father’s office, and later in a cage opposite the Amberg mansion’s main stairs. Her mother had moved them back into the office following her father’s death, and she’d seen Jack staring at the statues every now and then, a wide-eyed, awed look on his face.

She caught him gazing at the awards again, the night before the 20th Academy Awards. The Oscars that they were going to attend _together._

He was standing in the doorway of her mother’s office, the moonlight from the windows in front of him casting a strange blue-ish gray hue over his features. Claire had snuck up on him from behind, watching from a few feet away as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and sighed. She had half a mind to complain that he should be getting some rest before the ceremony tomorrow, drag him back to bed ( _their_ bed), and kiss him senseless.

But instead, she simply narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him, which turned out to be the _wrong_ move. The wooden floorboards creaked loudly (why did _everything_ have to sound so damn loud at night?), and he spun around, shocked.

“ _Jesus,_ Claire, what are you doing?” Jack hissed, his eyes wide and his hand gripping his chest.

Claire raised her eyebrows. “I could say the same about you,” She said, stepping closer to him. “What are _you_ doing, staring at the Oscars shelf after midnight?”

She was expecting him to give her a straight answer, but he only snorted. “You say that like everyone just has a shelf devoted to Oscars in their house,” He commented, and she laughed quietly.

“You _know_ what I meant,” She told him, and he sighed.

“I was, uh, just thinking about my future.” Jack shrugged, looking down. “ _The_ future, I guess. Not just _mine._ ”

She suddenly remembered that summer night at George Cukor’s house, at one of his famed parties, where he’d said almost the exact same thing. _I was just talking to some fella about, um… my future_. The future… well, the future was always uncertain, she thought. No one could be _absolutely_ sure of what would happen to them or to someone they loved. One could only hope that they would be happy in the future.

Claire thought of what she’d asked him that night, when they’d stood on the grass, and she’d pretended like she didn’t overhear his conversation with Henry Willson.

_Are you happy?_

At the time, he told her that he didn’t know. Sure, he’d been at one of the best, craziest parties in Tinseltown, but at that same party he’d also came to a terrifying realization while talking to the _star-maker_ of Ace Studios. And she’d overheard all of it, had seen everything.

Claire thought it was time to ask him that question again. Surely his answer would be a little different.

“Are you happy?” She asked him again, as they both stared at the shelf. She wondered if he’d avoid the question and ask if _she_ was happy, and if he did, she could honestly say that she was really, truly happy. Ever since she’d attended _Meg_ ’s premiere with him, and they’d decided to be _more_ than friends, she’d been the happiest she’d been in her whole life, probably. The only person who might have been even _happier_ at the moment was her mother.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned her head onto his shoulder as he responded, “Yes.”

Jack kissed the top of head gently. “I’m just a little bit nervous.” He said quietly.

“Why?” She asked, and he shrugged.

“I-I don’t know,” He stuttered. “I mean, I don’t… I don’t really know what reaction I would get if I win.”

“ _When_ you win.” She corrected, and he stiffened.

“Let’s… let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He responded, obviously flustered. Claire snorted.

“Are you nervous about _winning_?” She stared at him, incredulous. He looked like a fish out of water, all flustered and floundering and awkward.

“I-I mean, I don’t know,” He shrugged again, not making eye contact with her. “I have a speech prepared, but-“

“Then you’ll be _fine_ ,” Claire reassured him. “Seriously, Jack, it’s just a speech.”

Jack looked doubtful, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah, I guess.”

He sighed, and went back to staring at the statues, an eerily calm look on his face. The moonlight had cast a blue glow over the both of them, and Claire yawned.

“It’s almost 2am.” She told him, removing his arm from her waist and looping her arm through his. “Let’s go to bed.”

He nodded, and they quietly made their way upstairs.

“Do you think your mom will hear?” Jack whispered, and she rolled her eyes slightly, smiling.

“No,” Claire replied. “Remember the night before _Meg_ ’s first receipts came in? I think she had no idea you were here until you skidded in behind me that morning, still holding your coat and one of your socks.” She reminded him, and he laughed quietly.

“Yeah, I remember that.” He swallowed. “I’m surprised she didn’t kill me.”

Claire snorted. “No. She likes you.”

“Oh. Well, good to know.” He noted, and she nodded.

“Yes, we talked about that after we had that conversation about you sleeping with her.” She said, slightly sarcastic, and his mouth formed an _oh_ shape, and he nodded. “I’m joking.” Claire told him, and his face relaxed in relief.

“Oh, geez. Um, it must be really late if I’m unable to pick up on your sarcasm.” He noted, reaching the door to the bedroom, and pushing it open. It creaked slightly, and they both froze, before entering.

“Mhmmm, especially since you’re getting all flustered like you’re a little boy with a crush,” She mused, and they both smiled.

“Yep, that sounds like me.” He grinned, climbing into bed after she did, and turning off the lamp that she had turned on when she discovered he’d snuck downstairs.

“Good luck tomorrow,” She said, as the room was plunged into darkness. The only light was the moonlight that seeped through the windows, casting that familiar blue glow across the floor and the bed. “You’ll win, I know you will.”

Even in the darkness, she could tell that he was smiling. “I love you,” Jack whispered quietly, and she smiled too.

“I love you, too.” Claire whispered.

Hopefully, _Meg_ would win big at the 20th Academy Awards. The cast and crew deserved it, she knew. They all had a big day ahead of them, though, and Claire thought it was wise to get some sleep. As she drifted off to sleep, she realized that maybe, her reality was finally better than her dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make my day! Please consider leaving some if you enjoyed this work.
> 
> Also, I love Jack with my whole heart.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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